Snapshots
by silverdoe21
Summary: A series of 'snapshots' of the Harry Potter universe - enjoy! Please read and review :
1. George's Return

**This is a new series of oneshots, or 'snapshots', I've started which will basically be short Harry Potter snippets. I'll carry on if people enjoy it :)**  
**Chapter 1 is about George's return to the flat above WWW after Fred's death and also how I imagine their going into hiding. Enjoy! Read and Review 3**

George stepped through the door to the flat above the shop – it was exactly as they had left it months previously. The flat was cold and had the appearance of being left in a great hurry; one of the dining chairs had been overturned and it was clear that things had been abandoned in the rush – a loose shoe, a book lying open on its spine.

George's eyes fell on two champagne flutes which still stood on the kitchen table as though the celebrants had just popped out for a walk. Both were empty. They had been toasting one of their best intakes since the opening of the shop. He remembered the dizzying feeling of success, the electric buzz that money brought. The champagne bottle was lying on the floor, unbroken, the cork under the dining table on the other side of the room. George couldn't remember which of them had dropped the bottle. He bent automatically to pick it up. The glass was cold in his hands, untouched for months, and most of the liquid had gone; evaporated or trickled through the cracks in the floorboards, but there was still some sloshing around in the bottom.

Placing the bottle on the table, George looked over to the window. It was open, and the lace curtains were fluttering innocently in the breeze which had been drifting in steadily for almost a year. That, at least, explained the unseasonable chill. He remembered, as he moved over to the sill, the moment he'd spotted the group of cloaked figures gliding towards the shop – it was only a small group of three (apparently the Death Eaters had thought they wouldn't put up much of a fight), but George had still felt his insides freeze and his breath catch in his throat. For a moment he'd thought they were Dementors, such was the chill that passed over him. He'd said simply, "they're here", and one of them had dropped the bottle. He remembered Fred's triumphant laugh stopping short and the room had suddenly seemed much darker.

Fred. The name made his stomach twist painfully and the dizzying nausea threatened to engulf him again. But he pushed it aside. He was getting good at that. It had been two months since Fred's death and it was George's first time returning to their flat in Diagon Alley. Everyone referred to that night as 'The Battle' or a similarly grand, impersonal title, but to George it meant only one thing: the death of his brother. Even the end of Voldemort and the Hell of the last year paled beside the loss of his twin. The door to Fred's room was standing slightly ajar, but George found himself averting his eyes as though the sight of something so deeply immersed in the memory of Fred would physically hurt him. He wasn't so sure it wouldn't.

He thought vaguely that the flat needed a dust around – a thought that, a few months ago, would never even have occurred to him. George had immersed himself in work around the house since Fred died; especially gardening. He revelled in the exertion, the labouring of his breath, the dull ache of his arms as he dug the spade in and out of the soil. He loved seeing the dirt under his fingernails and ingrained into his robes; the proof of his labours. It also gave him an excuse to avoid the shrewd, concerned glances of his family; he didn't have to pretend he hadn't noticed their quickly stifled conversations when he walked into a room, or the way they would force smiles onto their faces when they spoke to him in falsely cheery voices. For the first time in his life, he craved his own company.

George turned away from the window and his eyes fell on a set of deep purple robes slung over the back of the sofa. An elaborate 'W' was emblazoned on the chest pocket. He picked the robes up and brought them up to his face, pressing his forehead against the velvet, breathing in the familiar smell that made his stomach jolt, not unpleasantly, but with recognition. A memory stirring in the depths of his consciousness. Folding the robes neatly, with care, George tucked them inside his own robes and made a move towards his bedroom. For a moment he felt the grief ebb away, leaving a calmness stirred up by that smell. By the memory of his brother.

**Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Please review and tell me what you think/if I should continue with some more snapshots :)**


	2. Just A Kid

**So here's Chapter 2! Another depressing one I'm afraid. But enjoy! R/R**

Colin ran through the fighters, firing hexes into the dark. He had never felt terror like this before; he was suddenly much more aware of his body than usual. His heart thudded madly in his chest, his muscles screamed and his bones ached. He longed to crawl into his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory and bury himself under the covers, to hide away. But he couldn't. He kept running.

The night sky was aflame; curses flew from every direction like a sinister fireworks display. Colin wasn't even trying to protect himself; he just wanted to get away, to breathe. He threw a jinx over his shoulder and heard a cry behind him which told him he'd hit his mark. He hardly cared if it was a Death Eater or one of their side.

Colin reached the castle wall and hid himself in its shadow where he couldn't be seen. He lent against the cold stone and closed his eyes; he could still see the light of the curses behind his closed eyelids. He was grateful the wall was there to hold him up – he didn't think his trembling knees could take much more. All those DA lessons in the Room of Requirement, he'd never thought it would be like this. Colin realised suddenly that Harry had been right; fighting Death Eaters wasn't all it seemed. There was no honour, no glory – there was just your guts and your nerve and the adrenaline which kept you going.

He'd just seen a girl _die_; a girl in his year, a Hufflepuff girl he'd had Transfiguration with. He'd _spoken_ to her. Just once or twice, but that was enough to make him realise what they were facing. Colin had been running through the battle with her just in front of him, when a masked Death Eater had spun around and sent a jet of green light in their direction. It had hit her in the chest and she'd fallen, her body splayed awkwardly across the ground. Colin had almost tripped over her. He remembered the blank emptiness in her eyes, her mouth open in fear. Then he'd looked up and felt his stomach clench – the Death Eater had turned his wand on him. He threw himself back into the fray and managed, somehow, to dodge the curse which sailed past his ear. He didn't even know now where the girl's body lay.

Colin opened his eyes and felt something harden inside him. The image of the dead girl's blank eyes was burned into his mind. How could he hide here like this when people he knew, his classmates, were dying? Clutching his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white, he steeled his resolve and stepped out of the shadow of the castle wall just as there was a blinding flash of light, a crack like lightening and, looking up, Colin saw the wall begin to crumble. Hogwarts was collapsing. He suddenly felt exposed, standing in the firing line of a thousand curses like a deer in headlights. He ran, back into the battle, before he was crushed by the collapsing wall; he turned back automatically to watch it fall in a great cloud of dust, the light from the exposed Entrance Hall spilling out onto the lawn.

As the dust cleared, a Death Eater stepped casually over the rubble; he was unmasked and laughed sourly when he saw Colin, who realised too late that his wand was held loosely at his side._ A kid's mistake_, he thought bitterly, raising his wand, preparing to fight. But the Death Eater had already raised his and had said the words before Colin had even thought of a spell to cast.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

* * *

"I've found another one Neville! It's-"Oliver Wood swore under his breath as Neville hurried over and crouched beside him.

"Colin Creevey," Neville groaned.

"What was he even doing here? He's just a kid…"

"Dumbledore's Army," Neville said simply. Oliver didn't reply, but the two of them picked up Colin's body and carried him towards the front doors into the Entrance Hall.

"He was stronger than he looked," Neville said as they climbed the stone steps, "people underestimated him."

"He's still just a kid…" Oliver looked down at Colin's lifeless face, shaking his head.

"He was," Neville nodded sadly, "we all were."

**Thanks for reading! Please review :)**


	3. Petunia's Jealousy

**Next chapter! Set during Lily/Jame' seventh year while Voldemort is becoming stronger. The thorny bush is supposed to represent the barrier in Lily and Petunia's relationship - yay for imagery! :D R&R!**

Petunia Evans was kneeling by a large, thorny bush, peering through a gap in its branches at the couple by the river; the boy had horribly untidy black hair and glasses and was lying on his front, propped up on his elbows, absent-mindedly pulling up blades of grass. The girl had long red hair and had kicked off her shoes to dip her toes in the water. Petunia eyed her sister and the boy jealously.

"I'm really glad you could come, James," Lily turned to him, smiling.

"D'you think I could stand the thought of not seeing you for the whole of the Easter holidays?" James pushed himself into a sitting position, "I'd pine away!" He stuck out his bottom lip, looking so remarkably like a lost puppy dog that Lily laughed and, pulling her feet out of the river, clasped her hands around James' neck and pressed her lips to his. James fell backwards into the bush behind him and the two of them broke apart, giggling. Petunia made a noise in the back of her throat and pursed her lips. Here was her eighteen-year-old sister, an adult, rolling around in the grass with that boyfriend of hers; like they were kids.

As she watched, James drew a flower out of midair with his wand and, plucking it from in front of his face, tucked it behind Lily's ear. Petunia felt a surge of jealously in the pit of her stomach.

"A lily," he said, grinning, obviously proud of himself.

"You are so corny James," Lily shook her head, laughing at his downtrodden expression. "But I love it," she whispered, kissing him again. James moaned against her lips and they fell backwards onto the grass once more; Petunia averted her eyes this time. She didn't think she could stand watching them anymore. She remembered Lily sitting on this very spot with that Snape boy, talking excitedly about learning magic, twirling a twig between her fingers. Petunia didn't know what happened to him; possibly Lily realised what a filthy layabout he'd been. Although, she thought savagely, this new boy wasn't much better. She turned her head to look back through the gap in the bush again.

They were now sitting with their backs to her, side by side on the bank of the river, talking in more subdued tones with their fingers intertwined. "…It's getting worse, James. They try and keep it from us at Hogwarts but it's obvious – all those 'accidents' in the _Prophet_? Do you really believe they're accidents?"

"Course I don't. I just – I hate the thought of you being scared."

Lily looked at him and then back down at her bare feet again, clearly touched. "I'm only scared that you'll do something rash. That when we leave Hogwarts you'll go running after those Death Eaters or – or…" James turned her face upwards, towards his; he was smiling.

"I love you, Lily," he said in a low voice, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I'll do whatever it takes for you to be safe; for us to have a life together, and if that means going after a couple of Death Eaters, so be it."

"Then obviously I'll go after them with you," Lily beamed happily but Petunia noticed the way her face had set stubbornly and her eyes flashed with defiance. James looked taken aback.

"You can't, Lily, it's too…" he began, but she rolled her eyes and cut him off.

"Dangerous?" Lily laughed, "I'm tougher than I look, James. I can be pretty fiery when I want to be – just ask Petunia, she…" But Lily broke off, looking awkward. Petunia felt her stomach jolt at the mention of her name but the sensation changed quickly to contempt; James had wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulders.

"Forget her, she's just jealous…"

Petunia scoffed loudly, not bothering to try and keep quiet, but she didn't think either of them noticed her stand up and storm away. Her thoughts were too hurried for her to make sense of them, and she didn't recognise the hot, twisting sensation in her stomach as jealousy. She pushed overhanging branches aside and kicked lose stones along the ground angrily, hissing as a particularly thorny branch grazed the palm of her hand. She couldn't understand what her sister saw in a boy like that and was fully prepared to go home and convince their parents that they were wrong about him; not that she cared – he was a good-for-nothing layabout and what her sister got up to with him meant nothing to her. And she could hardly _bear_ to think about his hair.

"'Tuney?"

Petunia jumped and spun round; Lily was standing a few feet behind her. The boy was leaning casually against a tree close by.

"Petunia? Are you ok?" Lily looked concerned, a frown creasing her forehead.

Petunia stood with her hands on her hips and sneered contemptuously. "What's it to you how I am, _Lily_? Not too busy playing magic tricks with your boyfriend?"

Lily stared at her for a moment before rolling her eyes, turning around and walking back to James. "Yeah, you were right, James," she laughed bitterly, "she's just jealous."

Petunia said nothing – she simply shot one last glare at James and walked off, back towards the house. She hadn't noticed Lily blinking back the tears as she left.

**Thanks for reading! Review - you know you want to ;)**


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